


ruthless games (played good & right)

by quietestfeeling



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beautiful Golden Fools, Domestic Violence, F/M, Ice Skating, Light Dom/sub, Sibling Incest, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietestfeeling/pseuds/quietestfeeling
Summary: Ice Dance’s Golden Twins, Jaime and Cersei Lannister, experience ups and downs in their athletic careers as their personal lives grow more tumultuous by the day. Allegations of violence and incest, career-ending injuries and family scandal threaten to rob the Lannisters of their chance at winning the gold.(Un-beta'd)
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Robert Baratheon (minor)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. broken ice still melts in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> AHH okay i must admit that i am quite nervous about posting this because i haven't posted any fic (aside from the drabble from a few days ago) since like ... 2013 or whatever and i've never attempted a multi-chap so ... yeah i'm nervous. i hysterically sobbed to some ice dance vids on youtube and then went and hysterically sobbed over these two idiots so ... why not combine the two? especially since there could always be more cersei/jaime fic out there!!!! fair warning: i have never done ice dance and i don't know much about the behind the scenes of it so please don't beat me up for messing up on british ice skating regulations and shit. also the rating is for future chapters.
> 
> also i've moved around the characters' ages but it will all be clear as things roll along.
> 
> fic title is remixed from state of grace by taylor swift, chapter title is from out of touch by hall and oates.

“Why do we always get punished and penalised like this?” Cersei was irate, and Jaime could barely open his mouth to attempt to console his sister before she continued her verbal barrage, “I don’t know what they want from us! They’re perversely interested that we skate as a pair even though we’re twins. If we dance the way the others do, sexually, romantically, we suffer and the rumour mill starts again. If we don’t, we get penalised for being non-traditional, for having no _passion._ We’re better than any of the other teams, we just _are_.” She opened her mouth again to continue after Tywin— _Coach_ Tywin— remained silent, his disapproval palpable without any speech needed to give it shape. Cersei ultimately decided against her next words and elected to silently fume instead. Unsure of how to best comfort his twin, Jaime gently stroked her thigh with his thumb, out of view of their father’s sightline in the rearview mirror. Cersei seemed to be somewhat comforted by his touch, and her irritation subsided a little for the time being as she leaned into Jaime, resting her head on his shoulder— a sisterly action, all things considered. The Lannister patriarch rarely accompanied his twins, newly twenty-one years of age, to the rink but had deigned to make a brief appearance today, as he had a meeting just a few blocks away.

Tywin was a legendary skater who had coached several teams to the Olympics after his own competitive career ended before moving into the business sector of the sporting world. In the past two decades, Lannister Enterprises grew exponentially each year and had a sizeable bid in what seemed to be every industry, not just athletics. Whatever affection he had for coaching had dried up by the time his own children began training under him, and Cersei frequently found herself receiving the short end of an already short stick. Jaime tried to console her by rationalising that Cersei probably just reminded their father too much of their mother, which put him in a dour mood. Their mother, Joanna, had been a three time Olympic figure skater before her untimely passing during childbirth with Tyrion a few years prior. Tywin had the final say on most of the twins’ decisions and coached them at times, but sacked Cersei and Jaime with Coach Stark most of the time. Cersei didn’t mind Ned Stark, he was a decent man, a good coach, even if he was far more stone-faced than she would’ve liked, and an extreme stickler for the ‘rules’ and ‘good sportsmanship’ to boot. Jaime on the other hand harboured a secret fanboy-esque crush on Coach Arthur Dayne and would’ve much preferred to train under him, but Coach Dayne didn’t coach teams, only singles. It was a little odd to be coached under Stark; while they certainly hadn’t grown up together— Ned and his brother Brandon were a couple years older than the Lannister twins, and they lived in opposite ends of the country— they had known each other in their youth. Thankfully, he didn’t lord any of the embarrassing childhood mishaps they had gotten into over their heads— he was likely far too serious and stoic for that.

Cersei secretly suspected that the only reason Tywin allowed his twins to skate at all was in service of Joanna’s memory. Tywin was clearly grooming Jaime to inherit the company, and grew increasingly frustrated with Jaime’s lack of work experience and interest in the company as Jaime continued to spend his time out on the ice. As for Cersei, Tywin was clearly slotting to marry her off to Robert Baratheon to hopefully boost Lannister Enterprises’ chances at merging with Crown Holdings Inc.; in fact, Cersei highly suspected that that was the primary reason Tywin had agreed to allow the twins to train with Ned Stark. The Stark and Baratheon families had been close for a long time, and a good relationship with him could greatly increase Tywin’s chances at successfully pairing Cersei with Robert. He had already successfully pressured Cersei into dating Robert. It had started out as a couple of casual dates— Robert was clearly still massively hung up on Ned’s sister Lyanna— but they were forced into committing to each other publicly when TMZ had caught them coming out of an alley behind Sexy Fish looking dishevelled and freshly fucked. To say that Jaime had not been happy would be an understatement, and it had taken a lot of make-up sex and consolation for him to be convinced of his sister’s affections. Even so, Cersei often found her twin glaring daggers during galas and other events where she showed up on Robert’s arm.

The twins walked into the rink after getting changed, with Tywin on the phone looking serious sitting at the judges’ table, to find Coach Stark already waiting for them. “I know that Regionals didn’t go as we had hoped, but we still have time to prepare for Nationals and World’s. You performed well but …” Ned trailed off briefly, more tense than usual with Tywin observing so closely, before starting again. “You know that in terms of … the public, the odds are stacked against you. People want to root for the underdogs these days, and regardless of what the truth may be— nobody sees you as the underdogs. You’re disadvantaged because you’re siblings and can’t—” Ned paused there and awkwardly cleared his throat, “or shouldn’t possess or show romantic chemistry.” Cersei felt a faint blush creep onto her cheeks, and unconsciously glanced towards Jaime, dropping his gaze once their eyes met. “To the judges and the audience, you seem excessively privileged. You are … inarguably confident to the point of coming off as arrogant, so most people don’t empathise with you regardless of your technical skill and accomplishments, which hurts your scores.”

Tywin stalked over to the edge of the rink and glared down at his children, “Impressive as our family name and legacy are, it doesn’t do you any favours. Neither does the ‘Kingslayer’ moniker you’ve managed to earn, Jaime. I know this, you know this … which is why you need to be working harder than anyone else in competition to be considered the same. No matter how much you are underestimated, overlooked and hated … your technical ability and precision will shut down every objection and every obstacle. But that means you have to get there and train twice as hard as everyone else. And for gods’ sake, you could stand to play the game a little; smile at the judges, show the audience some warmth.”

Cersei bristled at the last part of her father’s speech, “A lion does not concern itself with the opinions of the sheep,” she snapped, parroting one of her father’s favourite sayings. If only that were the case. Despite her irritation, Cersei felt a discomfort building in her chest. _Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold._ Many a commentator and judge had said such things about her, and it made her seethe. They had no idea the fire she was capable of; they didn’t know it, but most people would be happier regarding her as ‘cold’ than seeing her truly.

At the same time, Jaime stiffened at the mention of the word ‘Kingslayer’. He hated the nickname and felt a wave of sickness wash over him at the sound of the word. Ned Stark was supposed to be an honourable man, a good man, yet he listened to the rumours— perhaps even believed them. The British Figure Skating Association had cleared him of any wrongdoing, and Aerys had been the one banned for life and sent to prison— not Jaime. Yet Jaime’s reputation was the one that suffered. He had to force himself to relax and unclench his jaw, it would be no good for him to go on the ice tense and stiff; that’s when injuries occurred.

“ _Lion_ or not, you will concern yourself with the opinions of the judges,” Tywin said, glaring down at his children. “No matter how you perform, your success relies on the scores they give. You’ve been skating your entire lives; you should know by now that ice dance is not a quantitative, cut-and-dry sport. If you wanted your results to be objective, fixed numbers on a sheet … well, Jaime, business is very much an option for you. I have to be off, the bank has moved the meeting up half an hour. The driver will be taking me to the office afterwards, but he’ll likely be back in time to bring you two back home after practice.” With that, Tywin bid Ned farewell with a curt nod and left the rink.

Cersei seethed. _Fuck him. Fuck Tywin fucking Lannister and his misogynistic denial of the fact that Jaime is not the child he should be putting his hopes and fucking dreams into._ She felt herself gripping the edge of the sideboard, hard, until Jaime’s hand on her elbow pulled her back to earth. She wrenched her arm away and skated out to the center of the rink, “are we going to fucking train today or what?”

Jaime clenched his jaw before skating out after his twin, leaving Coach Stark to skate over to them from the edge of the rink. “Cee,” he murmured apologetically, “you know what he’s like, and you know it’s not easy for me either, you know I don’t want what he wants, so just … don’t be mad at me. It’s not my fault. We need to stick together, otherwise Father’ll just end up getting what he wants.”

Her eyes glittered like emeralds, hard and shining, “he’ll probably fucking end up getting what he wants anyway. Who are _we_ in the face of the great Tywin Lannister? Anyway we’re taking up poor Ned’s time,” she spat, before turning on her heel and skating to meet Coach Stark halfway. “Where’s Catelyn? We need to start drawing up the choreography for Nationals. It’s been six months, that’s plenty of time to lose the baby weight and we really need someone who can actually choreograph. No offence, _Ned_ , but artistry isn’t really your strong suit.”

Jaime sighed, his sister had a tendency to take her frustration out on others, especially when their father was the cause of said vexation, too powerful to be touched. It’s not that Jaime wasn’t guilty of the same crime on occasion, but still he thought that a rendezvous in the locker room might help Cersei release some of the tension. _A tongue-lashing to meet her tongue-lashing_ , he thought, smoothing down his face to keep from smiling at his own cleverness.

Practice was cut thirty minutes short, a gruelling four hour session reduced to three and a half. Stark had received a panicked call from Catelyn, apparently baby Bran had fallen off the sofa and hit his head on the floor— undoubtedly a bloody affair— and had begged the twins not to tell Tywin of the shortened session. They had obliged, but the glint in Cersei’s eye told Jaime that their father may end up finding out anyway.

“Cers, c’mon. Let’s hit the showers, maybe do a little … extra cardio in the locker room?” Jaime glided over to his sister, who was currently dropping into a viciously fast sit spin. She had been wearing a thinner leotard than usual and the sight of her body through the fabric had been diverting Jaime’s attention throughout the entire session. He put on his best smirk and tossed his golden head before steadying her with his hand on her waist as she spun to a halt, knowing the best way to get his twin in the mood.

To Jaime’s dismay, Cersei rolled her eyes at him and skated out a little, putting distance between them. “We have the rink for four hours, I intend to use them. If I went for the triple lutz at Regionals instead of pussying out and doing a double instead we could’ve at least gotten silver. We fucking deserved it. So you can go clock out early and play with yourself in the locker room while you wait for me, or we can work on the routine together. Either way, I’m staying for the full four hours.” With that, she pushed off from the ice towards the corner of the rink and began practicing her jumps.

Jaime surmised that this could go any number of ways. He could leave and Cersei would be pissed and they wouldn’t fuck, or she would be pissed and they would have angry sex at home. Or he could stay and she might still be pissed if things didn’t go well, and the fucking again, could go either way. Option three was that he just stood there and waited until she landed a triple and hopefully she would be happy enough to decide to leave early after all. Watching Cersei angrily fumble a triple axel into a double, Jaime huffed out a breath and skated towards her. It was best to give her what she wanted and not leave things up to chance. His twin tended to skate poorly when she was angry, and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Or smash the blades of her skates into a locker and use the jagged edges to threaten anyone, as she had done with Melara Heatherspoon at Worlds’ in 2016. “Of course, sweet sister. You’re right, we should practice. If we can get the twist lift and twizzle sequence perfect, we’ll definitely get gold at Nationals.” She still looked upset, but her expression was more dejected and less furious than before. He pulls her into a hug, her slim arms folded between their chests.

Cersei lets herself enjoy the feel of her brother’s embrace for a moment before pulling away, her hands still resting on his chest. “I’m a little…” she looks down, averting her green gaze from his, “a little worried. Father and Stark both seem to think that our skating suffers because of our … relationship and us being siblings. The judges certainly agree. I mean, nobody knows anything but … I don’t know. Should we stop… doing what we do? Just focus on the skating? I don’t want to do anything to risk losing at Nationals, even if it means sacrificing our trysts. You know that Father wants to groom you to take over the company, MBA or not, and I’m afraid he’ll put his foot down if we aren’t medalling anymore.”

Seeing his normally fiery sister so watered down and subdued caused a pang in Jaime’s heart. He loved his father, he really did, but Tywin was the only person who could put these kinds of doubts and fears into Cersei’s head and Jaime’s temper simmered at it. “I’m never going to let him take me away from you. I don’t care how fucking powerful Tywin Lannister is. He won’t have what he wants. We’ll win Nationals, and then Worlds, and then the Olympics. We’re together, we can’t lose. Fuck everyone who isn’t us.” He peeled Cersei’s hands from his chest and held them in one hand. “I have faith in us, our bond makes us better than any other team out there. They don’t understand our love, and they don’t know the true nature of it, but they will know how powerful it is. No one else can do what we do because …” he smiles at Cersei, a sweeter one, different from the smirk he wore while propositioning her earlier, “we’re one. We’re the same. Who could top that? Besides, no one has any proof. As far as the world knows, you’re with Robert and I’m an eternal bachelor. There’s no need to worry, sweet sister.”

Comforted by his words, Cersei smiled and allowed herself to nuzzle into Jaime for a moment before gliding backwards and extending her hand to him. “Go over our step sequence again?”


	2. we washed misunderstood; your heart was warm like a brother's should.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was just you and me… Everything else just disappeared. And I loved it."  
> — Her (2013) dir. Spike Jonze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'the enemy' by andrew belle.  
> warning for smut in this chapter. second warning for the fact that i'm just horrible at writing smut. third warning for two idiots x psychological warfare when all they really want to do is get down and dirty. more skating will come in the next chapter!!!!

Cersei hadn’t followed him into the men’s changing room, which was odd, so Jaime showered quickly before rushing out to wait outside the ladies room door. The rink seemed to be empty, but it was best to ascertain that no one else had come in. He knocked on the door. No response. “Cersei? Is there anyone else there with you? I’m coming in.”

There was a brief pause before he heard Cersei’s voice through the door, “no one’s here, but don’t come in, I’m not decent. I’ll be right out.” This was strange. Cersei seemed to have been properly placated by his words on the rink and they had enjoyed a rewarding, if gruelling half an hour of practise, yet her refusal to let him see her undressed sat uncomfortably with Jaime. Had she not been thoroughly convinced? He heard her banging around in the room, clearly rushing to try to get dressed quickly and decided to push in regardless of what she had said when he heard a loud thud and a yelped “fuck!” from his sister. Jaime found her sitting on the floor, half dressed in a shirt and panties with her pants pooled around her legs.

“Shit, Cee. Are you okay? What’s going on? Did you fall too badly?”

“I’m fine. I was just rushing, since _you_ seem to be in such a fucking hurry, and I tripped. It’s fine.” Cersei batted away his extended hand and used the bench to pull herself up off the floor. As Cersei stood and began gathering her fallen clothes, Jaime saw an array of yellowing bruises around her hips and ribcage.

He took her clothes out of her hand and sat her down on the bench, pointing at her bruises. “Did these just happen? I didn’t realise you fell so hard.” She said nothing, choosing instead to chew at her lip and survey the ground. Jaime stared at the marks, his hand coming up to gently push the hem of her shirt up and found the bruises around her hips to be shaped like fingerprints, beginning to turn yellow. He felt sick. “If fucking Robert Baratheon did this to you … I’ll kill him. Fuck the deal. Fuck father. I’ll fucking kill Robert with my own fucking hands.”

Cersei whipped her head to look at him, her long golden hair falling on Jaime’s shoulder. Her eyes were undeniably heated, but unreadable. “I said _… I’m fine._ He was just being too rough during sex. It’s fine, Jaime. I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just go home? Before someone comes in?”

He clenched his jaw hard at the mention of his sister having sex with the Baratheon lout. Cersei looked utterly tense, her hands were tugging viciously at each other and she seemed to grow more rigid and brittle with each passing second. He sighed, pushing out a harsh breath before kneeling in front of his sister to help her put on her pants. She rolled her eyes at that, but smiled a little too, and extended her leg towards him even as she said “don’t be ridiculous Jaime, I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”

The car was already waiting outside when they walked out the door, and Cersei directed the chauffeur to take them to her penthouse. The partition was drawn up and Cersei slung her legs over on Jaime’s lap but looked out the window. He wanted to talk about what he had seen in the dressing room, but didn’t want to risk her ire and have the driver overhear an argument, so he settled for gently drawing circles on her pale ankle with his thumb.

She rustled through her bag to pull out a squashed carton of cigarettes, choosing the least bent one and held it between her teeth. Cersei rifled through her things once more for a lighter but came up empty. Jaime grabbed the cig from her mouth, rolled down the window and chucked the whole packet out. She wasn’t a smoker, not really, so the fact that she was lighting up— or trying to— told her twin that things were worse than she had let on.

She glared at him and pulled her leg back, as if she was going to kick him in the stomach, but eventually returned her foot to its original position and said nothing. After a brief silence, he spoke. “I don’t miss training at five in the bloody morning, but coming back from the rink now during lunch hour may just prove to be worse.”

Cersei wiggled her toes in his lap and raised her eyebrows at him. “Really? Do we really have nothing better to talk about than traffic?” Jaime said nothing, just looked at her intently. With a sigh, Cersei dislodged her foot and shifted over to lay in the space between his legs, her head resting against his chest. His hand moved to idly play with her hair, curling it around his finger. “Jaime,” she said, stilling his hand and intertwining their fingers, “I love you. _Only_ you. You know that Father wants me with Robert, at least until everything has been locked down with the company. And Robert knows he needs me to secure the deals and help him, socially. People respect him as a war veteran, but high society is about more than that and you know it.” She gently rested two fingers under Jaime’s chin and met his mouth with hers in a soft kiss before continuing. “A couple nights ago when I stayed over at Robert’s, I saw that call girl from the Martell party a few weeks back coming out from his place. The one that was also doing double time as a cater-waiter? I was fucking furious and we got into a fight. I said some things, he said … less things. He punched me in the stomach, which is where this,” Cersei gestures to her ribcage, “came from. He apologised, he promised he’d never do that again, we had make-up sex, which is when he got a little rough and … you know. But I know he didn’t mean to, and Father still needs him. I can live with it, Jaime, so you can too. You know he wouldn’t dare to do anything that would actually injure me. Father would have his head if my career was cut short or delayed because of fucking Robert Baratheon. He can’t hurt me, and if he does hurt me, he can’t break me. He is only a man and I am a lioness.”

Jaime felt sick. Not wanting to start a fight or worry his sister, he forced himself to continue gently playing with her hair. _But he_ ** _did_** _fucking hurt you. He does this again and I’ll kill him. I don’t care what Father wants. I don’t care._ His mind spun and his vision grew blurry with anger, but Cersei’s hand tilting his head down for another kiss soothed Jaime. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, taking care to avoid the bruise hiding beneath her shirt, and buried his nose in her hair, dropping kisses into the golden mass. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered. _I’ll never let anyone hurt you._

They remained like that for several minutes until the limousine rolled to a stop outside the Red Keep. The twins disentangled themselves from each other and assumed their original positions when the chauffeur came around to knock on the tinted windows and open the door. Jaime slung their gym bags over his shoulder as Cersei slipped the driver a ten pound tip and smiled sweetly at him before walking into the building.

The Red Keep stood in the center of Knightsbridge; the space that it now occupied had seated an old stone building where the Targaryens had resided for generations. Upon Aerys’ arrest and jailing, the other members of the family fleeing the country, Cersei had persuaded Tywin to purchase the property and raze it, erecting a shiny new fifty-two storey condominium complex in its place. The glass had been specially crafted to appear red in the sunlight, and the Lannister banners placed about gave the building a grand status. Jaime and Cersei mostly enjoyed thinking of it as a massive ‘fuck you!’ to the Targaryens. Their father preferred to stay at the family estate, Casterly Rock, and signed the lease under Cersei’s name. How his sister had managed that, Jaime was still largely in the dark about. Cersei occupied the entire penthouse floor, and Jaime officially lived in a smaller suite in the storey below, but he spent most nights in with her.

Holding Cersei so closely and intimately in the car after exercise had already gotten his blood pumping made Jaime antsy (and a little horny), and he bounced on the balls of his feet in the private elevator as Cersei leant against the wall. As kids, they had enjoyed sitting on the handrails in elevators, holding hands and swinging their little legs as Tywin pretended to not be quietly panicking that they might fall and hit their heads. Joanna would always be stifling a smile as she told them off.

As soon as the doors slid open to reveal the expansive living room, Jaime tugged his sister out of the lift, lugging their bags behind with his spare hand. Fifty-two stories up, London looked small from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Keep’s penthouse. Jaime liked to fuck Cersei up against those selfsame windows as he took in the cityscape underneath, imagining that the pedestrians roaming the streets could see them.

He slung the bags onto the sofa and Cersei glared at him. “This chaise is new, Jaime. And it’s _white. Please_ , dear brother, don’t just throw our dirty gym bags onto it,” her voice was sweet, but choler lay underneath. Jaime considered provoking her further, but remembered their conversation in the car and acquiesced, pushing the bags onto the floor. She still looked dissatisfied, but said nothing more on the subject. Sitting primly on the edge of the sofa, Cersei took off her shoes and exchanged them for a pair of slippers from the closet. “I didn’t shower at the rink, so I’m going to take a bath now. You are free to join me, but not if you don’t take off your fucking shoes in the house. We’re between maids now, or have you forgotten?”

Cersei’s last maid, Jane, had developed a little crush on Jaime, and had started asking too many questions after finding a pair of Cersei’s panties mixed in with his skating stuff. He laughed a little, thinking about how the mousy little woman simpered after him. Cersei had ended up firing Jane, but at least nobody was slapped this time. With an NDA or otherwise. Neither of the twins really knew how to do any housework, so they would have to find another regular maid eventually, but Jaime couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy not having to wait for anyone to leave before he could touch Cersei as he wished. Shaking his head of his thoughts, Jaime looked up to see that Cersei had walked through the master bedroom, towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in her wake. _Hansel and Gretel,_ he thinks, _I wonder if any witch could try to eat us._ He gathered the clothes from their bags, hers from the hallway and sloppily shoved them into the laundry basket along with the clothing he had just divested himself of and hurried to join his sister.

Cersei sat on the marble edge of the tub, naked and gloriously golden as ever despite the bruises mottling her skin. A new one, red— but turning blue, from her fall in the changing room was visible on her lower back. She was running a slim hand through the water as it filled the tub, testing the temperature. A vial of lavender scented bath milk rested beside her. Upon hearing her brother’s footsteps approach, Cersei turned to look at him. She had thrown her hair up and held it away from her face with a satin ribbon, but a few golden strands fell around and framed her face anyway.

Her cunt clenched.

Bathed in the rays of the midday sun, Jaime looked every inch the king she knew him to be. Skating had kept both of them lean, and his long limbs seemed to gleam in the sunlight along with his eyes. He sauntered towards her, every inch the lion of their sigil. Just as he was about to grab her, Cersei parked her foot on the top of his thigh, flexing a little to feel the hard muscle underneath. His manhood stood at attention, just inches away from where her foot rested. She planted her other foot firmly on the floor for support and gently pushed him away. Utterly comfortable in her own nudeness, Cersei supported herself with her slim arms and took the opportunity to stick her chest out while she was at it, her soft pink nipples proudly erect. “I haven’t finished drawing the bath,” she speaks innocently, and she draws her gaze down at the floor demurely, but Jaime knows her wicked games. (It doesn’t make him any less hard.) “Would you be a darling and get us some champagne? I opened the ’83 vintage the other day when you were at the Rock.”

Jaime resisted the urge to disregard her words and her games, and just fuck her over the vanity. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week; Tywin had insisted that Jaime return to the Rock to assist him with some business, Cersei had social obligations to attend to, and they had barely hugged that morning before they were ushered into the car and into the rink at their father’s behest. He turns to go do her bidding, but then looks back and drinks in the sight of her, his gaze dark and heavy as it rakes over her body. The way she was sat, one leg extended with the other bent, Jaime could see the pinkness of her cunt, the wet shine of it. He jerked towards her, but stepped back again when he caught the dangerous glare in her eye.

Sometimes Cersei got like this. She wanted to fuck, but more importantly, she wanted to play. To be worshipped. To have him hanging on her every word. He knew that it was sick, a little ugly … But her love was _warm_. _Cersei is the sun_ … beautiful, golden, radiant. He wanted to stare into her until he became blind. But she could also cast quite a shadow.

Jaime turned on his heel, rushed into the kitchen, and pulled out the bottle Cersei had mentioned. He itched to run back immediately, bottle in hand, but he knew how the game was played. He grabbed three flutes from the glass cabinet in the sitting room and filled the third with strawberries from the fridge. He wanted to make Cersei happy. Cersei deserved to be happy, more now than ever, and sometimes when she was extra happy, she would do this vicious thing with her tongue around his cock…

Momentarily lost in thought, Jaime was brought back to earth by the sound of a faraway splash and the tap turning off. Forgoing the tray, he sticks the bottle under his arm— an ungracious crime to commit against such a fine vintage— and grabs the glasses and heads back towards Cersei.

It doesn’t surprise either of them that his erection hadn’t flagged in the slightest.

He wondered if they would fuck in the bath. He wondered how long they would take in there, if she’d tease him, if she’d fuck him straight away, or if they’d go through the pretence of having a romantic bath together when all they wanted to do was rut like animals. And then he would have to towel her off and treat her like a princess before they even got close to having sex. Some nights were like that. Most of those nights ended with him getting pushed into the hallway naked, his clothes thrown after him by an angry Cersei. He wondered if they would fuck in the bath, and if Cersei would make him clean the water up on hands and knees while she watched.

Jaime shuddered violently at the thought. That wouldn’t happen, not today. Cersei was in the mood to play, to be sure, but thankfully not in the mood to punish.

He stepped back into the room to see his sister half submerged in milky water, the same shade as her creamy skin, spooning water over her legs— propped up on the windowsill— with cupped hands. The scent of lavender filled the room and left Jaime feeling slightly drunk. He moved towards her, as if drawn by a magnet, and set the glasses and bottle down on the floor before climbing into the tub alongside her. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. A little bit of water sloshed out over the side, displaced by his weight, but Cersei seemed not to mind.

Her hair was still up in the silky ribbon, the tails of which had grown damp from the water, and Cersei raised her head to fix her brother with a clear green gaze. The sun was lightening her eyes, and they seemed paler than usual— more jade than emerald— but the look that dwelled inside them was familiar. When Cersei lowered her legs back into the water, she used them to bracket Jaime’s thighs and pulled herself closer to him, sitting between his legs as he sat between hers.

“Where’s the champagne I asked for, dear brother?”

Jaime wanted to touch her so badly it hurt.

He settled for undoing the ribbon in her hair and strew it onto the floor. He felt Cersei about to protest, so he felt around blindly until he grabbed the bottle of champagne and presented her with the glasses. She pursed her lips, but took the bottle from him anyway and filled both glasses until the bubbles threatened to spill over. Cersei took a sip of champagne and sighed in a peculiar, faux-content sort of way. Her nail dragged along the rim, gathering the leftover bubbles before making its way into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked at her finger. The glass sung.

Jaime felt suddenly, that he was uncomfortable. He was still hard as hell, no doubt about it, but his spirit squirmed in his body. He didn’t want to play games, he didn’t want Cersei to put on this show of seduction, as if he were any other man. He knew what she needed, and surely she must know that she didn’t need to perform for him. Surely she must know that he didn’t need to be seduced. They played sometimes, but this was different. This felt false, and ugly. He wondered if she was horny at all. He wouldn’t be able to tell with the water.

He took the glass out of her hand and set it down again alongside his on the floor. Jaime struggled for words, the right thing to say, and Cersei seemed to grow more displeased by the second. She was clearly trying to send him a message that he just wasn’t receiving. He settled for popping a mini strawberry in his mouth, an offering, and pressing his lips against hers.

She resisted at first, baring her teeth against his lips, but he pushed, insistent, until she opened her mouth and he slid the strawberry onto her tongue. It had gone soft and mushy, broken down by his saliva, and when they pulled away from each other, Cersei’s mouth was stained. She looked bloody, like she’d just eaten a rat. Jaime wanted to devour her.

Impatient now, he grabbed her and twisted her towards him, her ass parked firmly on his lap. The bath sloshed violently, there’d be milky water in the champagne flutes. His cock was stomached between her body and his abdomen, and he resisted the urge to fuck himself using her body. He could play games of his own too.

Cersei squirmed against him, but Jaime held her firm in an iron grip. Her hair was getting wet now that it was free from its ribbon, and it whipped against his chest painfully as she thrashed her head. Jaime grabbed her by the jaw from behind, and stretched his thumb up towards her mouth in the pretence of cleaning away the strawberry mess, but instead smeared it around her face. He was behind her, but he didn’t need to see her eyes to know that they were blazing.

He didn’t need to feel between her legs to know that she was wet for certain now, and not just from the bath.

“Let me go, Jaime.” Her eyebrows were knitted, a crease cutting between her lovely eyes.

He kissed her, mauling her mouth with hers, the angle mimicking their position in the car earlier, with none of the tenderness. She gave as good as she got, and Jaime felt a welt rising on his lower lip. “Never,” he gasped by her ear, and thrilled in the gooseflesh appearing along her shoulders.

She was pressed flush against his chest now, and Jaime snaked a hand between their bodies to twist her hair around his fist. Cersei liked control, yes, but with Jaime … what she really wanted was a good fight. _I am a lioness_ , she had said in the car. It slowly dawned on him that what she wanted wasn’t pampering; she wanted concrete proof that she was adamantine, not glass. That she couldn’t break. _I can do that for you, sweet sister._

He lifts her up with his free hand, and somehow, even through the opaque water, sinks her down onto his cock. Cersei lurches forward, hands and knees hitting the floor of the tub, Jaime’s death grip on her hair the only thing keeping her face just millimetres from the water. Her cunt fluttered around his cock, clearly trying to accommodate the newfound intrusion, and Jaime could hardly blame the now-tepid bathwater and heady lavender scent for the stars that burst behind his eyes.

He stays stationary, unmoving, except for his free hand running along her back, almost as if he were petting her. Cersei writhes, moaning like a whore, desperate for some friction, and Jaime’s hips can’t help but stutter, fucking into her in two short, sharp thrusts. An unfamiliar burble falls from her pink lips, somewhere at the crossroads of a whimper and a laugh, and all of a sudden Jaime has let go of her hair and torturously unsheathes his cock from her cunt, standing up to get out of the water.

Cersei’s on him in an instant, whirling around to glare at him with anger, arousal, desperation, and a plea in her verdant eyes. What a sight she makes. Her lips and cheeks are deliciously rosy, with a similar flush rising in her chest. Her skin is slightly pink from the water, and her hair, lit through by the sun— half wet and half dry as it is— gives Cersei the appearance of an angel wearing a halo.

Without a word, Jaime tugs Cersei out of the water and slings her over his shoulder, her cunt and ass bobbing by his sightline as he walks them to the bedroom. Her nails are short and neat, but they carve vicious half-moons into his back and nonetheless. She’s so fucking fragrant that he feels lightheaded. He wants to bury his face in her pussy and nose at her clit until she keens the way she does sometimes, but he settles for dumping her onto the bed for now. He stares, mesmerised at her body on the red satin sheets, the water making it seem almost bloody in its darkness. Jaime’s pulled from his dulia by the sensation of her sculpted calves brushing against his thighs; she’s sat up and shifted close enough to the edge of the bed that her body is pressed against his, her creamy breasts sandwiching his cock as her slim ankles lock together and lock him into her atmosphere.

Cersei tugs her brother down for a kiss, and this time it’s gentle, sweet even. He chases her mouth with his own and presses their chests together. She’s beautiful like this, perfect. Foreheads touch and he mouths _I love you_ against her lips. He can barely see her, their visions blurred by the proximity, but the brush of her mouth against his tells him that she replies _I love you too._

Outside of the rink and obligatory social events, the twins spend most of their time alone with each other. This is different. With Jaime’s hair falling around their faces, one self mirrored in the other, it’s easy to believe that they truly are the only people in the world. Their breaths are shallow without being frantic, and mingle with each other in the fragrant air.

Cersei is the one who breaks the trance. She kisses him hard, she has honey for a tongue, nectar for spit and diamonds for teeth, diamonds that tug at his bottom lip it feels thick and raw. She sucks the welt into her mouth and grazes it cruelly with a canine when Jaime’s cock teases at her folds. Her ankles return to their previous home at the apex of his ass, and she pulls him in hard. It’s clumsy, the head of his length brushes against her clit on accident when his body jostles like that, but Cersei’s just wet enough, slick enough, that he manages to slide in, buried to the hilt.

Instead of a moan, Cersei lets out a sigh, so thick and full of contentment that Jaime’s eyes flutter closed in his reverence. Her cunt feels as sweet as ever, tight as a vice. It was incredible, like being strangled by a god. Divine, dangerous, so deliciously slick it would make lesser men faint. Her hands are dancing across his chest, feather-light touches over his collarbones, his nipples, his stomach, lower and lower until she’s teasing her own clit as Jaime pumps into her. The sight of her pleasuring herself, using his body as she masturbated, had Jaime’s blood searing through his veins. A beast overtook him, a lion, and he flipped his sister over, barely disjoining their bodies as he did. He plunged into her at a punishing pace from behind. His thrusts were brutal, and pushed her clit against the sticky sheets with each one. Her hands were now stretched above her head, facedown on the duvet. If not for her nudity (her glorious, glorious nudity), her kneeling supplication looked like the very image of worship. The lewd _slap-slap-slap_ of wet skin on skin sounded sweeter than any church hymn.

One hand kneaded savagely at the pale flesh of her ass, while the other sought her throat. Jaime tilted Cersei’s head up to look at the mahogany headboard, and squeezed gently at her throat. He could feel her breathing change, feel her pussy spasm and splutter in waves as she came. _She never came this quickly with Robert, if at all._ Her cunt felt raw, stripped and punished. She had never felt better. When Jaime thrust in again, hard, Cersei backed herself up against him, pressing their bodies as close as possible.

“Come inside me,” she keened as best she could through heaving breaths. “I want it, Jaime. Want to keep a piece of you inside me. Want to walk around and feel your cum leak out of my cunt. I want a physical reminder that you’re mine.”

Jaime loved it when she got like this, delirious with pleasure, sick and nasty and more delectable than ever. To hear of her devotion towards him … it had Jaime coming in a dizzying flash, embarrassing almost in how powerful her hold over him was. Shame is the last thing on his mind when he dislodges himself from her and they roll onto their backs, shoulders brushing and pinkies touching in the space between them. He closes his eyes, his vision is pink when the sun beats down through the windows onto his eyelids. Jaime cracks open a green eye when he hears a wet noise and feels Cersei move beside him.

She’s fucking herself, her slim fingers pumping inside her cunt, trying to push his cum in further. Jaime’s dick made a valiant attempt at stiffening up again. Upon noticing his gaze, Cersei sucks her fingers into her mouth and then fucks herself harder until she comes with a shudder and a shout before falling back, sated.

They lie like that until the wet satin begins to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Cersei gets up first, throws on her panties, and light dressing gown and leaves the room, only to return with Jaime’s boxers and one of his shirts. She tosses them over to him and he catches them in mid-air before they land on the soaked bed.

She leans against the doorframe, ankles and arms neatly crossed as she addresses her brother casually, as if he hadn’t been balls deep inside her just minutes before, “Jaime, I’m going to hop in the shower quickly.” She pauses for a second, pressing her lips together in quiet mirth, “ _alone_ ” she adds. “Do you want to order in, or should we pop down to the little French place down the block while we get Lucy in to change the sheets?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! please feel free to leave comments and share any thoughts you had about this chapter :-). you can find me on twitter at @casterlyrox or @cerseipatrol, on tumblr as casterlyrox, but i'm best reached on insta as @virginiapottz or @achaeon.


End file.
